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By MARGARET VVIDDEMER 

FACTORIES. Poems. $1.30 net. 

THE WISHING-RING MAN. 
$1.35 net. 

YOU'RE ONLY YOUNG ONCE. 
$1.50 net. 



HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
Publishers New York 



THE OLD ROAD TO 
PARADISE 



POEMS BY 

MARGARET WIDDEMER 




NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
1918 



't^! 






Copyright, 1918, 

BY 
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 



THE QUINN A 600EN CO. FRtgS 
RAHWAY, N. J. 



km 29 1518 



©CLA503250 



TO MOTHER 
WITH MARGARET'S LOVE 



For the privilege of reprinting many of the poems 
in this volume the author wishes to thank the editors 
of The Bellman, The Bookman, Contemporary Verse, 
The Century Magazine, The Delineator, The Dial, 
Everybody's Magazine, The Forum, Good House- 
keeping, Harper's Bazar, Harper s Magazine, Life, 
McClure's Magazine, Midland, New Fiction Publish- 
ing Co., Poetry (Chicago), Poetry Review (Boston), 
Reedy' s Mirror, St. Nicholas, Southern Magazine, 
Smart Set, Touchstone, Youth's Companion. 



CONTENTS 



FAGS 



THE OLD ROAD TO PARADISE 

The Old Road to Paradise .... 3 

The Old Kings 5 

St. Jeanne Rides Out ..... 7 

A Ballad of the Wise Men .... 9 

Next Year 11 

Homes 12 

Father-Prayer ^3 

GooD-BY, My Lover 14 

Poem for a Picture . . . . . . 15 

Prayer for the New Year .... 17 

THE SINGING WOOD 

The Gray Magician 21 

The Dancers 22 

The Gypsy Star 24 

The Faun's Sweetheart .... 26 

Dream-House 28 

Garden Dream 29 

Swan-Child 31 

Changeling 33 

Songs from a Masque . . . . . 35 

Unspelled 38 

The Singing Wood . . .. . . . 39 

vii 



viii Contents 



PAG« 



BEING YOUNG 

Whistle- Fantasy 43 

Once When We Bought Valentines . 44 

When I Was a Young Girl .... 46 

The Garden 48 

October 50 

Heart of Youth 51 

Song: I Wish I Were Old Now ... 52 

To Youth After Pain . . . . . 53 

Old Books 54 

The Wires 57 

WOMENFOLK 

Women . . 61 

Embroidery 63 

Tea 64 

Dream-Death 65 

Toys es 

Mother-Prayer 67 

Three Studies for a Portrait ... 68 

To A Young Girl at a Window . . . 71 

A Lost Comrade 'J2 

Departure 73 

Discovery 74 

Woman-Lore 75 

The Unfound City ^^6 

The Dark Cavalier 'jj 



Contents 



IX 



PEOPLE 

Travel Prayer 8i 

His Mother 82 

In an Office Building . . . . -83 

God's Places 84 

People 85 

A Boy of the Ghetto 87 



WISTFULNESS 

Life Tells the Dreamer 

Prescience .... 

I Tell My Heart . 

Fulfilment 

Once I Met Happiness . 



91 
93 
93 
94 
95 



LOVE SONGS 

Denial 99 

The Masters 100 

I Said, " Love Is Gone " loi 

Vain Hiding 102 

" Mary, Helper of Heartbreak " . . 103 

Interim 105 

Other People 106 

And If You Came 107 

I Was Still a Child 108 

Peace 109 

One Worse Thing no 



X Contents 

PACK 

LOVE SONGS— Cow^inw^c/ 

Givers m 

Old Wine 112 

I Took His Dreams 113 

Certainties 114 

Wise People 115 

Unfaith 116 

Song: Kind Adieu 117 

Lost Counsel 118 

I Did Not Know .119 

An Afternoon 120 

The Wood-Path 122 

Warning 123 



THE OLD ROAD TO PARADISE 



THE OLD ROAD TO PARADISE 

Ours is a dark Easter-tide, 

And a scarlet Spring, 
But high up at Heaven-Gate 

All the saints sing, 
Glad for the great companies 

Returning to their King. 

Oh, in youth the dawn's a rose, 

Dusk's an amethyst, 
All the roads from dusk to dawn 

Gay they wind and twist; 
The old road to Paradise 

Easy it is missed ! 

But out on the wet battlefields, 
Few the roadways wind, 

One to grief, one to death 
No road that's kind — 

The old road to Paradise 
Plain it is to find ! 

{Martin in his Colonel's cloak, 

Joan in her mail, 
David with his crown and sword — 

None there be that fail — 
Down the road to Paradise 

Stand to greet and hail!) 
3 



The Old Road to Paradise 

Where the dark's a terror-thing, 
Morn a hope doubt-tossed. 

Where the lads He thinking long 
Out in rain and frost, 

There they find their God again, 
Long ago they lost : 

Where the night comes cruelly, 
Where the hurt men moan, 

Where the crushed forgotten ones 
Whisper prayers alone, 

Christ along the battlefields 
Comes to lead His own : 

Souls that would have withered soon 

In the hot world's glare, 
Blown and gone like shriveled things, 

Dusty on the air, 
Rank on rank they follow Him, 

Young and strong and fair ! 

Ours is a sad Easter-tide, 

And a woeful day, 
But high up at Heaven-Gate 

The saints are all gay, 
For the old road to Paradise, 

Thafs a crowded way! 



THE OLD KINGS 

All of the Old Kings 

Are wakened from their sleep, 
Arthur out of Avalon, 

Ogier from the deep, 
Redbeard from his Dragon-Rock, 

Sigurd from his fen . . . 
" Is it time," they rise and cry, 

" To lead our hosts again? " 

They have donned their winged helms. 

They would rise and reign, 
The young king Sebastian, 

The old king Charlemagne, 
Harold with his great bow, 

Roland with his horn . . . 
Men have heard their horses' hoofs 

Many a scarlet morn ! 

The Old Kings have risen . . . 

Where the hosts advance 
Redbeard cries his Germans on, 

Karle cries out for France, 
Up and down the battlefield 

Ghostly armies beat, 
Stilly down the gray sea glides 

Olaf 's shadow-fleet : 



The Old Kings 

Up and down the red fields 

Men have seen them go, 
Seen the long plumes on the wind, 

Seen the pennons flow, 
Harry out of Agincourt 

Sends his bowmen wide, 
Joan that has forgiven them 

Battles at their side. . . . 

Christ, king of Paradise, 

Hasten with Thy hosts, 
Angels all in silver mail, 

Saints and blessed ghosts. 
Cry the long swords sheathed again, 

Cry the pennons furled, 
Lest under Ragnarok 

Lie the shattered world ! 



ST. JEANNE RIDES OUT 

(For Amy Lowell) 

St. Jeanne she sat with Michael, 

With Marguerite and Raphael, 

And all the saints who sent her forth a many years ago, 

And high behind her gold-ringed head. 

The martyrs dressed in white and red 

And seraphim all silver-winged they chanted row on 

TOW. 

St. Jeanne she spoke to Michael, 

To Marguerite and Raphael, 

" Oh, here's no place for such as I, all white and gold 

and warm. 
For I was but a peasant maid 
Strong of arm and unafraid. 
Before you sent me garnering along the battle-storm." 

St. Jeanne she's laid her garlands by. 
Her crown and palm that glittered high 
And all the golden trinketry she won at Heaven Gate, 
She's out along by Mary's Street 
Where little stars lie thick and sweet. 
With helm and sword they took from her at Rouen- 
Town of late. 



8 St. Jeanne Rides Out 

St. Peter swore, *' The gate stands wide, 

So many folk have marched inside — 

I'll drop my golden keys tonight and snatch a sword 

again ! " 
And stalwart saints and martyrs all 
And sworded angels silver-tall 
In straight and shining companies they've followed in 

her train. 

And down the fields of Paradise 

The churchmen all so great and wise 

Who won to Heaven so hardly once, they've knelt to 

her at last. 
All they who laughed at Rouen-Town 
To see the flames beat up and down 
And learned her for a saint that day, they follow glad 

and fast. 

Oh, did you hear the shouting then ? 

Along the fields of weary men 

There's lifted heart and strengthened arm and laughing 

glad accord : 
Oh, who may doubt what end may be? 
With all her winged chivalry 
St. Jeanne rides down her fields tonight to battle for 

the Lord! 



A BALLAD OF THE WISE MEN 

The Christ-Child lay in Bethlehem 

And the Wise Men gave Him gold, 
And Mary-Mother she hearkened them 

As they prayed in the cattle-fold: 
" Smile then, smile, little Prince of Earth, 

Smile in Thy holy sleep, 
Now Thou art come, for want and dearth 
There shall be plenty and light and mirth 

Through lands where the poor folk weep." 
But Mary-Mother was still and pale 

And she raised her gold-ringed head, 
'* Then why have I heard the children wail 
All night long on the far-blown gale 
While my own Child slept ? " she said. 
{But far overhead the angels sang: 
" There shall be joy! " the clear notes rang!) 

The Christ-Child lay in Bethlehem 

And the censers burned for him 
That the Wise Men swung on its silver stem 

And prayed while the smoke rose dim : 
" Sleep, then sleep, little Son of God, 

Sleep while the whole world prays; 
All of the world shall fear Thy nod, 
Following close Thy staff and rod, 

Praising this day of days/' 
9 



lO A Ballad of the Wise Men 

But Mary-Mother turned whispering 

There by the manger-bed 
" Then why do I hear the mocking ring 
Of voices crying and questioning 

Through the scented smoke ? " she said. 
{But high overhead the angels sang — 
" There shall he faith! " the pure notes rang.) 

The Christ-Child lay in Bethlehem 

And the Wise Men gave Him myrrh. 
And Mary-Mother she hearkened them 

As they prayed by the heart of her : 
" Sleep, then sleep, little Prince of Peace, 

Sleep, take Thy holy rest. 
Now Thou art come all wars shall cease. 
Thou who hast brought all strife release 

Even from east to west ! " 
But Mary-Mother she veiled her head 

As if her great joys were lost, 
And " Here is only a manger-bed. 
Then why do I hear clashed swords ? " she said. 
" And why do I see the tide of red 

Over the whole world tossed?" 
{But still overhead the angels sang: 
" There shall he peace! " the sure notes rang!) 



NEXT YEAR 

Up and down the street I know, 
Now that there are Grief and War, 

All day long the people go 
As they went before ; 

But when now the lads go by — 
Careless look and careless glance — 

My heart wonders — " Which shall lie 
Still next year in France ? " 

When the girls go fluttering — 

Flushing cheek and tossing head — 

My heart asks — " Next year shall bring 
Which a lover dead ? " 

Lord, let peace be kind and fleet — 
Put an end to Grief and War; 

Let them walk the little street 
Careless as before ! 



HOMES 

The lamplight's shaded rose 
On couch and chair and wall, 
The drowsy book let fall, 
The children's heads, bent close 
In some deep argument. 
The kitten, sleepy-curled. 
Sure of our good intent, 
The hearth-fire's crackling glow 
His step that crisps the snow, 
His laughing kiss, wind-cold. . 

Only the very old 
Gifts that the night-star brings, 
Dear homely evening- things, 
Dear things of all the world. 
And yet my throat locks tight . 

Somewhere far off I know 
Are ashes on red snow 
That were a home last night. 



12 



FATHER PRAYER 

Lord God, Who let Your baby son 

Pass earthward where the joys were few 

To a hard death when all was done. 
And very far away from You ; 

My little lad must go today 

Paths where I cannot guide his feet, 
Through dangers that I cannot stay 

To strife I cannot help him meet; 

He has heard voices calling him 

Though youth is gay and life is warm, 

And right seems far away and dim. 
To weary ways and battle-storm : 

Lord God, Whose Son went steadily 
Down the hard road He had to tread, 

Guard my son too, that he may be 

Strong in his hours of doubt and dread ! 



13 



GOOD-BY, MY LOVER 

All the flags stream abroad, and the crowds wave and 

cry — 
And I watch for your face in the long lines marching 

by; 

For my lips bade you go, but my heart would bid you 

stay — 
Oh, lad, and will the war be long, and you so far 

away? 

And your step as you marched, would it lag or fall 

more true 
If you knew that my heart's gone to war to follow 

you? 



1 



14 



POEM FOR A PICTURE 

(Children at play on a French Battlefield) 

** When I was a child," 

You shall tell one day, 
Children, on these blackened fields 

Gallantly at play, 
" All the quiet sky 

Burst in death aflame ; 
One day, I was young, 

Then . . . The Horror came." 

** When I was a child ..." 

Wind-tossed leaves of war. 
Is there childhood still for you, 

Wise in horror-lore, 
Who have heard your sisters' screams 

Shattering your play, 
Seen your mothers past their dead 

Led to shame away? 

Ragged, helpless, maimed. 

Hungry, left alone 
Where the smoking roof-beams lie 

By the wrecked hearth-stone, 
15 



Poem for a Picture 

Still you mime (child-hearts are strong, 

Childhood pain is brief) 
Echoes of world-victory, 

World-defeat, world-grief ! 

Dauntless in your rags, 

Insolent in mirth, 
Laughing with young lips that know 

All the griefs of earth, 
God, who loves a high heart well, 

Will not let you fail — 
You are France, who laughs at Hell — 

France, who shall prevail ! 



PRAYER FOR THE NEW YEAR 

Lord God, we lift to Thee 

A world hurt sore. 
Look down, and let it be 

Wounded no more ! 

Lord, when this year is done 

That wakes today 
Many shall pray to Thee 

Who do not pray ; 

Let all lips comfort them, 

All hearts be kind, 
They who this year shall leave 

Their joys behind : 

Give them Thy comforting, 

Help them to know 
That though their hopes are gone 

Thou dost not go; 

They who shall give for Thee 

Lover and son, 
Show them Thy world set free, 

Thy battles done ! 
17 



[8 Prayer for the New Year 

Lord God, we lift to Thee 
A world in pain, 

Look down and let it be 
Made whole again ! 



THE SINGING WOOD 



THE GRAY MAGICIAN 

I WAS living very merrily on Middle Earth 

As merry as a maid may be 
Till the Gray Magician came down along the road 

And flung his cobweb cloak on me : 

His cobweb cloak of gray brushed my eyes and my 
ears 

And all the curtained air was thinned, 
And I came to the sight of the quiet Other People 

Who live in the water and the wind : 

And I cannot go abroad to gather up the faggots, 

Singing to the honest air 
Because of the fingers of the brown wood-women 

Catching at my blowing hair : 

And I cannot sit at home and be quiet at my spinning, 

Singing to the thread I spin, 
Because of the crying of the green sea-women 

Beneath my sill to be let in : 

And I wish the Gray Magician had been swung to an 
oak 

Or drowned in the deep green sea 
Before he brushed my face with his cobweb cloak 

And stole the Middle Earth from me ! 

21 



THE DANCERS 

(For Edwin Arlington Robinson) 

Ours was a quiet town, a still town, a sober town, 
Softly curled the yellow roads that slept in the sun, 
Staid came the day up and staid came the night down 
And staidly went we sleepwise when the day's work 
was done ! 

Oh, they came dancing down, the gay ones, the bonny 

ones, 
We had never seen the like, sweet and wild and glad, 
Down the long roads they came, fluting and dancing, 
Flowers in each lass's hair and plumes on each lad ! 

Sweet were their clinging hands, kind were their 

voices, 
" Dance with us, laugh with us, good grave folk," said 

they, 
" Swift we must go from you, time's long for toiling, 
Come and make joy with us the brief while we stay ! " 

Oh, then was a gay time, a wild time, a glad time, 
Hand in hand we danced with them beneath sun and 

moon. 
Flowers were for garlanding and greens were for 

dancing — 
This was the wisdom we learned of them too soon ! 

22 



The Dancers 23 

Swift went the day past, a glad day, a wild day, 
Swift went the night past, a night wild and glad, 
Down fell their arms from us, loosening, fleeting, 
Far down the roads they danced, wild lass and wild 
lad! 

Far fled their dancing feet, far rang their laughter, 
Far gleamed their mocking eyes beneath the garlands 

gay, 
All too late we knew them then, the wild eyes, the 

elf-eyes, 
Wood-folk and faun-folk that danced our hearts 

away! 

Ours is a still town, a sad town, a sober town. 
Still lie the dun roads all empty in the sun. 
Sad comes the day up and sad falls the night down, 
And sadly go we sleepwise when the day's watch is 
done! 



THE GYPSY STAR 

There were seven shining stars that swung above my 
cradle 
(She never was kind to me, Diana our Lady the 
Moon!) 
And one was rosy-pale, and one was scarlet-golden, 
And one was a little shadowed star that only could 
vanish soon! 

Oh, Mars was scarlet-wild and Venus was veiled in 
shadow 
(She called to the clouds to come, Diana our Lady 
of Snow!) 
But all of the stars that rose and helped me where I 
must wander 
They never could hold the Gypsy Star to the roads 
where my feet must go ! 

Oh, one was a star of crowns and one was a star of 
dreaming 
And one was a star of mockery and one was a help 
from pain, 
And ever the Sun was kind and shone for my idle 
singing, 
But ah, my wandering Gypsy Star I never shall find 



again ! 



24 



The Gypsy Star 25 

Oh, Mars may burn to dusk and Venus may rise from 
shadow 
And even the Moon that hated me forget as she 
lifts the tide, 
Yet what if they gleam or fade, and what if they stay 
or wander? . . . 
Alas, my wandering Gypsy Star that faded and 
flamed and died ! 



THE FAUN'S SWEETHEART 

We met by the Wood of Doom, 

Day gone and the dusk come after . . . 

And I thought you were one Hke the lads anear, 

Only more glad and fair, 

Till I heard you laugh in the gloom 

And I knew a faun's wild laughter — 

But oh, it was all too late to fear 

The little horns in your hair ! 

Far back leaped the woodlights' glow, 
And you fled — and I might not follow, 
And I loosed the hold of your hurrying hand 
At the piercing wood-flutes' call ; 
For my human feet fell slow. 
Flagging at hill and hollow. 
Till far rang back from the leaping band 
The click of your light footfall. 

The days pass long and still 
Where I sit still at my spinning . . . 
But I wish the sounds of the talking stream 
Would hush, and I might not know 
Over the forest-hill 
The sounds of the night's beginning, 
Nor see the flit of the hurrying gleam 
Where the lightfoot woodf oik go ! 
26 



The Faun's Sweetheart 27 

For I cannot have hope in heaven 

To quiet my heartache after. 

Because you were only a faun o' the wood 

With never a soul at all. 

And never the hills of heaven 

May echo a faun's wild laughter 

Nor over the harpstrings' holy flood 

Sound ringing your light footfall ! 



DREAM-HOUSE 

(For Anna Hempstead Branch) 

I WENT to the house of the Lady of Dreams 

For a dream to carry away 
That should ferry me over the blackest streams 

I had to cross by day ; 

For comforting dreams from her small white hands 

Rise up like butterflies, 
And dreams like the lakes in old fairylands 

Lie back of her shining eyes, 

And gold-riddled dreams like tapestries 

Cling painted along her walls 
And yellow bird-dreams from shadow-trees 

Come fluttering when she calls; 

And all of the day-dark when she spoke 

Was shattered and rainbow-hung, 
And she gave me a dream like a scarlet cloak 

And a dream like a wreath rose-strung . . . 

But I went from the house of the Lady of Dreams 
And my packet of dreams blew wide. 

And only a red-rose cloud in streams 
Swung torn in the west outside! 
28 



GARDEN DREAM 

They cried before my gate at morning-mirth, 

" Come out and heip us burn the weeds from earth!'* 

But I was planting out my garden-close 

With wands of lily and with slips of rose, 

And their scented wavings made the air so sweet 

That I could not listen to the trampling feet . . . 

(Yet there blew a perfume from the garden-bed 

That changed the evil weeds to white and red!) 

They called before my gate at noontide-breath, 
" Come out and help us check the dance of death! " 

But I was dancing in a woodland ring 
With brown wood-women for my partnering, 
And fauns that fluted till the green glades rang, 
And all I heard was what the wood-birds sang. . . . 
(Yet there came a music from the wood- folk's flute 
That made the drums of evil kind and mute!) 

They cried before my gate at sweet of night, 
" Come out and help us scourge the black world 
white!" 

But I was weaving me a golden gown 
All strung with silver lilies up and down 

29 



30 Garden Dream 

With moon-white laces that should foam and fall, 
And I could not hear their lashing words at all . . . 
(Yet there streamed a light from out the golden gown 
That cleansed the blackness of each evil town!) 

And every poor man had a garden-close 
With wands of lilies and with slips of rose, 
And every poor child danced the woodlands through 
And sang and Uuted merry songs he knew, 
And every woman had a golden gown 
Gay-strung with silver ribbons up and down, 
And we all went singing how the world is fair 
And warm the summer light and sweet the air! 



SWAN-CHILD 

(For Aline) 

My feet have touched the Dancing Water, 
My lips have kissed the Singing Rose 

And I was born a swan-girl's daughter . . 

Oh, I would stay with you, my lover, 
But in my heart a sea wind blows 

And in the dark the wild swans hover . . 

Tonight as I went down to sea 

To cast my net, to draw my net. 
The Marsh-King's daughter whispered me, 

"Sister," she called, "do you forget?" 
For though I am a fisher's child 

It was a swan-maid mothered me. 
And I have wings that I can don 
When day is done, when dark comes on, 

To bear me high across the sea. 

One star-dusk when I waited you 
And it was long before you came, 

There was a bird with wings of blue 
And claws of gold and crest of flame 

Who sang with words as mortals do: 
He sang me of an ivory fountain 
Within a wood beyond a mountain 
31 



32 Swan-Child 

Where lies beneath the water's flow 
A golden key, a silver cup, 
Until my hand shall lift them up . . . 
(Oh, I must go from you, my lover!) 

For they were mine once long ago. 

How shall you keep me, dear my lover? 

My heart is yours till night-winds call, 
And then dear earth-things fade and fall 

(Oh, I was born a swan-girl's daughter!) 
For I have found beneath the moon 
Brown fairy fernseed for my shoon 

That carries me where no man knows, 
Beyond the sands, beyond the clover . . . 
I cannot bide with you, my lover . . . 

My feet have touched the Dancing Water, 

My lips have kissed the Singing Rose. 



CHANGELING 

Though she has a name you bore, 
Elfin-Heart we loved before, 
You are lost to us, you child, 
Little life-flame burning wild ! 
Though her hair — how like ! — is tossed 
Like your yellow head that's lost, 
And her blue eyes seem to smile 
Like yours lost this weary while, 
This dim woman lifelessly 
Playing you — you are not she ! 
You that were a wisp, a spark. 
Small wild sunray, Gleam-in-Dark, 
Never you, wild heart awing. 
This that is a changeling! 

Elfin-Heart, too like you were — 
Mocking eyes and tossing hair — 
Cruel laughter, changeful ways — 
To your kin the wandering fays. 
To have passed their hidden ring. 
Safe, uncaught, unfollowing! 
Somewhere in a green hill's heart 
Elfin-tall you laugh apart 
Where forever cold and gay 
Do the Strange Folk's pipers play . . 
33 



24 Changeling 

And while this that bears your seeming 
Goes among us dumb and dreaming, 
You dance on eternally 
With the Dark Queen's chivalry ! 



SONGS FROM A MASQUE 

THE WOODFOLK SWEEP THROUGH 

The Water-Spirit: 

Water flows in the wild wood deep, 

Dreamy water that slips and sighs, 
I shall whisper your heart to sleep. 

Flowing down on your lips and eyes — 
Dance and dream — dance and dream — 
Folk of woodland and tree and stream ! 

The Fire-Spirit: 

Fire shall burn and be always new. 

Flames leap wild on the flashing air; 
I shall sweep from the heart of you, 
Worldly fever of love and care — 
Dance and leap — dance and leap — 
Folk of woodland and wind and steep! 

The Earth-Spirit: 

Earth is kind in the peace of night, 

Earth that loves when all else is done- 
I will hide you at loss of light 

Deep from hurt of the snow or sun — 
Dance till night — dance till night — 
Folk of woodland and vale and height ! 
35 



36 Songs from a Masque 

Chorus of W cod folk: 

Wild the heart of the magic wood, 

Wild the dream that shall never stay, 
Flute and laughter and dance are good, 

Joy and singing the while we may — 
Joy is good — joy is good — 
Folk of river and field and wood! 



SWANHILD SINGS UNSEEN! 

White wings, far wings, 

Fade down the sky, 
Dream things, fair things 

Follow and fly; 

Young heart, wild heart, 
Ah, could you follow 

All the clouds, all the dreams, 
Down the world's hollow ! 



SWANHILD SINGS TO THE KNIGHT: 

What shall I do with my heart 
That will not go with thee, 

Lover of mine, knight of mine, 
Guide to the heights afar? 



Songs from a Masque 37 

There is a dream to follow 

That will not let me be — 
I must go down to the marshland's water, 

Hiding from wind and star! 

What shall I do with thy heart, 

Seeking me without rest, 
I who must strip all hands from me. 

Guarding my steps in fear ! 
Turn from the fairy woodland. 

Pass to thy holy quest — 
I must go seek for the track of the swan 

And the sound of the step of the deer! 



UNSPELLED 

The world of dream is shattered ; hill and tree 
And winged music and enchanted lawn; 

For someone signed the cross, and suddenly 
Our faeryland was gone: 

The dark fell swiftly on the fear-struck land 
And mocking echoes cried across the chill ; 

The wailing woodfolk fled us . . . but your hand 
Held close to my hand still. 

Oh, what are woodland dream and fluting reed, 
Red glamor of enchanted jewel-stone? 

I pass the ruined faery gates indeed . . . 
But not alone. 



38 



THE SINGING WOOD 

I FOLLOWED far from the roadway 

After my golden ball 
(How could I tell the way it went, 

Where it might lie or fall?) 
And coaxing vines from the Singing Wood 

Came twining around my feet 
And scent of flowers from the Singing Wood 

Oh, it was sweet, was sweet! 

Once I met a satyr. 

Once I was with a faun, 
Once I spoke with a woman o' doom 

Spinning from dusk till dawn. 
Once I followed a will-o'-the-wisp 

Dancing along the fen . . . 
Never the sun in the Singing Wood, 

Never a bird-loud glen ! 

All the trees were sighing. 

All of the brooks were tears, 
All of the flowers were bleeding-hearts 

Scarlet with hopes and fears. 
All of the vines were hands that clung 

Twisting about my heart . . . 
Oh, the thorns of the Singing Wood 

Sharp they can tear and smart! 

39 



40 The Singing Wood 

I might have won to the rainbow's end, 

But never for all o' me 
Shall my feet stray into the Singing Wood 

For any fair things that flee . . . 
Here on earth are the day and night, 

Human women and men — 
And oh, 'tis good to be out o' the wood, 

Into the world again! 



BEING YOUNG 



WHISTLE-FANTASY 

Out in the dark the train passes 
And the whistle calls to the child, 
Desolate, piercing, wild. 
From the track in the meadow-grasses 
'' Far, far away," it screams, 
"Far, far away, 
Out in the distance are dreams 
Dreams you shall follow some day 
Far through the endless wild . . . 
Distance . . . dreams . , ." 
Backward the faint call streams : 
Far in the dark the train passes, 
And the whistle calls to the child. 



43 



ONCE WHEN WE BOUGHT VALENTINES 

(For Kenneth) 

Close upon the window-glass pressed our eager 

faces — 
Hearts and torches all aflare, frame on frame of laces, 
Wreathing roses all abloom, Cupids all awing, 
Valentines — and valentines ! swung along the string. 
Lights from out the window-pane glinted on the snow 
Once when we bought valentines — how long, how long 

ago! 

Slow we tiptoed in the shop, scarlet-cheeked and shy, 
Half-elate, half-afraid to be asked to buy. 
Sidling toward the prettiest on their swaying strings, 
Laughing at the ugliest, monstrous painted things. 
(Still the little thrill of fear — life was strange, you 

knew — 
What if someone sometime sent one of those to you?) 

Tense we watched the lagging mail, furtive hearts 

abeat . . . 
Surely it would never come down the endless street! 
Surely all the valentines would be gone before 
(Out of sight, into sight) it could reach our door. 

44 



Once When We Bought Valentines 45 

Surely all the envelopes sealed with hearts of red 
(Were they there? Were they ours?) would be gone 

instead ! 
Hearts and doves, wreaths and loves wonderful to see ! 
Could He mean the shiny words, " I Can Love But 

Thee?" 
Would he look across the desks when next morning 

came, 
He who sent (If He sent) all those hearts aflame? 
Would He know the straggling hand, all in print and 

bent 
Up and down on the folds of the one you sent ? 

We're too old to buy them now — all the loves and 

laces, 
We can only watch above other little faces. 
Glowing at the prettiest, laughing at the plain, 
Still the eager faces crowd by the lighted pane. 
Once we too saw wonderlights glinting on the snow, 
Once we too bought valentines — too long, too long 

ago! 



WHEN I WAS A YOUNG GIRL 

(A Song of Old Ballads) 

When I was a young girl, all in a green arbor, 
When I was a young girl in Springtimes gone by 

All the long days I went singing and smiling, 

Down by the roses the sweet days beguiling, 
Love in the arbor and love in the sky . . . 

When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl. 
When I was a young girl, how happy was I ! 

Oh, the long days I must sit at my sampler, 
Oh, the slow way that the still time would go! 

I longed to be running across the bright heather, 

" Off with the silk gown and on with the leather, 
Following the raggle-taggle gypsies, oh!" 

When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl, 
When I was a young girl, a long time ago ! 

When I was a young girl in days that were golden, 
When I was a young girl, and life had no smart, 

All the world seemed a place for my playing. 

Full of great lovers to come to me, saying, 

" Madam, I give you the keys of my heart ..." 

When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl, 
When I was a young girl, and dreaming apart ! 
46 



When I Was a Young Girl 47 

When I was a young girl, I dreamed of my lover, 
A tall cavalier who should whisper me low, 

" Love, on your lips are red roses a-hlowing, 

I am your true love, and fast ii time going 
Am I your true love? Oh, say yes or no!" 

When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl — 
When I was a young girl, a long time ago ! 

When I was a young girl there came my true lover, 
Swiftly I knew him in glad days gone by; 

Never a sword or a lovelock or feather, 

But oh, at his touch 'twas our hearts came together, 
Love in the arbor and love in the sky . . . 

When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl. 
When I was a young girl, how happy was I ! 



THE GARDEN 

There were many flowers in my mother's garden, 
Sword-leaved gladiolus, taller far than I, 

Sticky-leaved petunias, pink and purple-flaring. 
Velvet-painted pansies staring at the sky ; 

Scentless portulacas crowded down the borders, 
White and scarlet-petaled, satin-rose and gold. 

Clustered sweet alyssum, lacy-white and scented. 
Sprays of gray-green lavender to keep till you were 
old; 

In my mother's garden were green-leaved hiding- 
places, 
Nooks between the lilacs — oh, a pleasant place to 
play ! 
Still my heart can hide there, still my eyes can dream 
it, 
Though the long years lie between and I am far 
away; 

When the world is hard now, when the city's clanging 

Tires my ears and tires my heart and dust lies 

everywhere, 

I can dream the peace still of the soft wind's shining, 

I can be a child still and hide my heart from care. 

48 



The Garden 49 

Lord, if still that garden blossoms in the sunlight, 
Grant that children laugh there now among its green 
and gold. 
Grant that little hearts still hide its memoried sweet- 
ness. 
Locking one bright dream away for light when they 
are old! 



OCTOBER 

Done with the Spring's unrest and gleam, 
The summer's toil and rich unrest, 
With nothing left to seek or keep 
Before she turns to Winter sleep 
Earth lays her golden head, to dream 
One month against the gold sky's breast. 



50 



HEART OF YOUTH 

When I come back in the gloom 
To my lighted house once more 
My heart says, " Haste tonight! 
There is something you do not know, 
Something to give you joy, 
On the other side of the door 
There in the firelight's glow, 
There in the lighted room." 

My quick heart whispers me, 
" The kinsman gone oversea. 
The one they have always said 
Would surely come back some day, 
Waits for you, brown, windblown . , 
Or the lover you have not known 
Is waiting you there tonight — 
Do you wonder that I rejoice? 
Or the dearest one of the dead 
Waits in the ring of light 
With the old glad face and voice 
As if he were never away . . . 
Hasten ! '' my heart has said. 

But when I open the door 
There are only the old lights 
And the old accustomed faces 
And the firelight on the floor. . . . 
51 



SONG: I WISH I WERE OLD NOW 

I WISH I were old now, 

And maybe content ; 
I'd look back the long way 

My footsteps were bent. 
And say, " 'Tis all done now — 

What odds how it went ? " 

For all would look smooth then 
And most would look gay, 

And " Oh, I was sure then, 
And strong then," I'd say, 

And show the wild young things 
My wise-traveled way. 

I'd have naught to strive for 

And no thought to form 
But how to rest easy 

And how to sleep warm. 
And " Pity the poor souls 

Abroad in the storm ! " 

I wish I were old now 

With living put by, 
And peace on the hearthstone 

And peace in the sky. 
But — "Oh, to be young now. 

But young now! " they cry ! 
52 



TO YOUTH AFTER PAIN 

What if this year has given 

Grief that some year must bring, 
What if it hurt your joyous youth, 

Crippled your laughter's wing? 
You always knew it was coming, 

Coming to all, to you. 
They always said there was suffering — 

Now it is done, come through. 

Even if you have blundered. 

Even if you have sinned, 
Still is the steadfast arch of the sky 

And the healing veil of the wind . . . 
And after only a little, 

A little of hurt and pain. 
You shall have the web of your own old dreams 

Wrapping your heart again. 

Only your heart can pity 

Now, where it laughed and passed, 
Now you can bend to comfort men. 

One with them all at last, 
You shall have back your laughter. 

You shall have back your song. 
Only the world is your brother now, 

Only your soul is strong! 
53 



OLD BOOKS 

The people up and down the world that talk and laugh 

and cry, 
They're pleasant when you're young and gay, and life 

is all to try, 
But when your heart is tired and dumb, your soul has 

need of ease. 
There's none like the quiet folk who wait in libraries — 
The counselors who never change, the friends who 

never go, 
The old books, the dear books that understand and 

know! 

** Why, this thing was over, child, and that deed was 
done," 

They say, *' When Cleopatra died, two thousand years 
agone, 

And this tale was spun for men and that jest was 
told 

When Sappho was a singing-lass and Greece was very 
old, 

And this thought you hide so close was sung along 
the wind 

The day that young Orlando came a-courting Rosa- 
lind!" 

54 



Old Books 55 

The foolish thing that hurt you so your lips could never 

tell, 
Your sister out of Babylon she knows its secret 

well, 
The merriment you could not share with any on the 

earth 
Your brother from King Francis' court he leans to 

share your mirth. 
For all the ways your feet must fare, the roads your 

heart must go, 
The old books, the dear books, they understand and 

know! 



You read your lover's hid heart plain beneath some 

dead lad's lace, 
And in a glass from some Greek tomb you see your 

own wet face, 
For they have stripped from out their souls the thing 

they could not speak 
And strung it to a written song that you might come 

to seek. 
And they have lifted out their hearts when they were 

beating new 
And pinned them on a printed page and given them to 

you. 

The people close beside you, all their hearts are dumb 

and young, 
The kindest word they try to say it stumbles on the 

tongue, 



$6 Old Books 

Their hearts are only questing hearts, and though they 

strive and try, 
Their softest touch may hurt you sore, their best word 

make you cry. 
But still through all the years that come and all the 

dreams that go 
The old books, the dear books, they understand and 

know! 



THE WIRES 

The wires gleamed far and silver, 

Lines on a morning sky; 
I heard the white wires singing 

Their song as I went by ; 
Far and far away they led, and I was bound and 

young, 
And sharp the wind blew overhead, and gave the 

wires a tongue — 
Young folk must wander far. 

Young feet must roam 
'Tis a long zvay to everywhere, 

But oh, a short way home ! 

The wires gleamed far and golden — 

I followed in their track, 
Far and far the gold wires led, 

And never road led back; 
Far and far the gold wires went, and oh, I fol- 
lowed fast. 
Roads to work ere youth was spent, and joy while 

youth should last: 
Rough roads to fame and gold 

Gay roads to roam. 
Roads to hate and roads to love. 

But never roads toward home! 

57 



58 The Wires 

The wires show far and darkened. 

Lines on a sunset sky, 
And still the black wires sing me 

Their song as I plod by — 
Far and far the black wires wind, and I am old 

and tired, 
And naught is left to seek or find of all that I 

desired : 
Old folk are wise too late, 

Old feet cannot roam, 
'Tis a short way to everywhere. 

But oh, a lost way home! 



WOMENFOLK 



WOMEN 

You fret and grieve and turn about 
To make this world and living out, 
With *' This is so "' and ** That is so — " 
Ah, sirs, we learned it long ago ! 

If you should make an angel tell 
What Mary learned of Gabriel 
Yet could you know the flaming words 
That pierced her with the seven swords ? 
And if some fiend-snake hissed you low 
All he told Eve where God's trees grow, 
Yet could you learn the thing she learned 
Who sobbing out of Eden turned? 

We watched with smiling mother-eyes 

The while you stormed, and thought you wise, 

At God's great walls, as if you beat 

Like babes, with angry hands and feet; 

For God, who bound our feet and hands 

And laid us under your commands, 

Still left us silence, love, and pain, 

And dreams to hide and peace to gain. . . .. 

Why, when you search beyond a doubt 
The furthest star's last secret out, 
6i 



62 Wo 



men 



Some woman from her nook shall smile, 

Laying her needle down the while, 

'' Dear, that old dream I told to you ? 

You smiled ... I thought you always knew ! " 

The thing we tell is no new thing, 

A wisdom born of suffering, 

That there is pain, and there is love, 

And God's great silence still above, 

And this is all — though you have hurled 

Your strength forever on the world. 

Quick, let us speak to you, ere yet 

Passed from our silence we forget, 

Like you, with crowds made deaf and blind. 

With dealing close to humankind : 

Be swift, for soon we too shall be 

With no more place for memory. 

Going unfettered as man goes 

And scarcely wounded more — who knows? 

And all our Vala-dreams shall lift 

Like Tyre-smoke and Atlantis-drift . . . 

Listen, most dear, the while that we 
At once have speech and memory. 



EMBROIDERY 

She sits and makes pink roses with her thread 

And wonders what to do, her heart astir. 

What road to take, where roads branch close ahead, 

And how to know her true love calling her ; 

Whether to follow thorny paths (but sweet 

The young wild heart's way !) or to fling the door 

Wide to love's placid tread with wonted feet, 

And how to build her life forevermore. 

The rose-sprung needle keeps its darting deft . , . 
When Hfe has gone whichever way it goes, 
Of all her wonderings shall be only left 
The texture and the pattern of this rose : 
And when her old eyes see its flowering spread. 
Dull-faded, a known decking of her room, 
(Wherever that may be then — all words said. 
All life made certain then until the tomb!) 

Something shall clutch her still of youth and pain. 
From that far-thrilled girl-day, and she will see 
Its shape grow in that breathless hour again 
With all her ordered years were still to be; 
From that brown silken flower shall flush in death 
Youth with its rosy terrors quivering gay, 
And she shall think, set free for one swift breath — 
" Ah, yes, I made it on that very day ! " 
63 



TEA 

They've flowers and cakes and candle-light, 

And chair by crowded chair, 
And I am very sweet and kind. 

Because I do not care . . . 
I think that I am hoping still 

If I am very good 
And talk to these around me 

As a courteous lady should 
The room will softly split across 

And roll to left and right 
With all its smiling pasteboard folks 

And colored things and light 
And let me run into the grass 
And climb a sunset hill, 
And find three hours one year ago. 

When I was living still. 



i 



64 



DREAM DEATH 

What though no folk who saw her knew 

At heart she was Pierrette, 
Who went her sober way 
In robe and face of gray? 
Still down a laughing path of dream 

Her flashing feet were set. 
To clink of gold guitars, 
Rose-scent and glint of stars ! 

But when he came who should have known 

Her kin to star and flower 
And left her heart unfound. 
Nor robe nor mask unbound, 
She went her way by daylight still. 

And seemed to live her hour, 
Firm hands and lifted head — 
Only Pierrette was dead. 



65 



TOYS 

She loves the flowers, the wind that bends the fir ; 
When the Spring comes she dances ; and her mirth 
Comes always when the water laughs to her. 
She holds the little daily sweets of earth 
On high and pleasures in them ; words that sing, 
Clear music, lovely faces ; all delight 
We others pass use-dulled, unnoticing — 
The sunrise and the sunset, day and night. 

Yet somehow all her woven joys endure 
Too perfect, too well-shapen to have rayed 
Light-heartedly on her. Oh, I am sure 
That once upon a time we do not know 
God took away from her — once, long ago — 
All life's real, rugged things, too sharp for joys, 
And — for she looked at Him still unafraid — 
He laid within her hands instead these toys. 

Oh, on the gentle day when she goes hence 
I hope that for her gay obedience 
He has reward for her : that when she dies 
He will not send her straight to Paradise. 
She knows enough of Paradisal mirth — 
Oh, surely He will give her back the earth. 
And all its living that He made her miss, 
Locked close to life by its most burning kiss. 
Clutching decisions, terror-haunted breath. 
Great grief, great raptures, passion, birth and death. 
66 



MOTHER-PRAYER 

" Lord, make my loving a guard for them 

Day and night, 
Let never pathway be hard for them; 

Keep all bright ! 
Let not harsh touch of a thorn for them 

Wound their ease — 
All of the pain I have borne for them 

Spare to these ! '' 

So I would pray for them, 

Kneeling to God 

Night and day for them. 

" Lord, let the pain life must bring to them 

Make them strong, 
Keep their hearts white though grief cling to them 

All life long. 
Let all the joys Thou dost keep from them 

At Thy will 
Give to them power to reap from them 

Courage still ! " 

So I must ask for them. 

Leaving to God 

His own task for them. 



67 



THREE STUDIES FOR A PORTRAIT 



OLD TALES 

Her voice within the darkened room 
Tells on — old jests and tragedies 

And little follies of her kin 
And futile old nobilities : 

". . . If they had only done," she tells, 
" The thing that others said was wise 

There would have been no death that year . 
How fast her tiny shuttle flies! 

The stiff old pictures on the wall, 

Who were those passionate girls and men 

So sure of Youth and Righteousness, 
Look dully on the Now from Then; 

And I look past her out the glass 

Where young Today goes to and fro . . . 

But all she sees was past a change 
A changeless fifty years ago. 



68 



Three Studies for a Portrait 69 



THE GRAY MASK 

I wish I could not see her heart 
That is so passionate, so young, 

For all love-words are said for her, 
All love-songs sung: 

Over light griefs her eyes grow wet, 
Over gay silks her eyes grow gay, 

She sighs, half-hopeful . . . '' I forget 
My hair is gray — " 

*' I dreamed a lover came for me 

And courted me," she tells, " last night . 

Ah, kind dream-lover, who could find 
Such tired eyes bright! 

And yet . . . Perhaps some lad in heaven 
Some day shall clasp her soul, and know 

Unchanged, the little lass he left 
So long ago. 

3 

THE SEEKER 

She was so full of restlessness, 
So ceaselessly went to and fro 

That it was hard for us to guess 

What thing she wished to find or know 



yo Three Studies for a Portrait 

Only the gifts the gray years brought 
So fretted her on cheek and brow — 

Could it have been her youth she sought ? . 
I hope that she has found it now. 



TO A YOUNG GIRL AT A WINDOW 

The Poor Old Soul plods down the street, 

Contented, and forgetting 
How Youth was wild, and Spring was wild 

And how her life is setting ; 

And you lean out to watch her there, 

And pity, nor remember, 
That Youth is hard, and Life is hard, 

And quiet is December. 



A LOST COMRADE 

You live as the world would have you do — 
Only the sleeping soul of you 
Lies unwakened by wind or dew. 

Your soul, that thrilled like a harpstring shaken 
Dusty hands of the world have taken 
And thrust it deeper than life can waken: 

You, who quickened our heavy eyes. 

Our hearts weighed down beyond will to rise, 

With silver shadows of Paradise ! 

Were it only your heart that the years had broken, 

Still should be for a shining token 

How your soul had glowed and your lips had spoken — 

Were it only your life that was crushed and 

through ! . . . 
They have taken the starry soul of you 
And hidden it deep from the wind and dew ! 



72 



DEPARTURE 

It was not when I plead with her, 

And on a tragic day 
Clung sobbing to her skirts of rose, 

That Youth went away; 

O not when from the cruel glass 
My face showed, lined and chill — 

Her eyes burnt wild beneath the mask, 
Her pulse hurt me still. 

But when I saw young lovers pass, 
And watched them, well-content. 

Nor felt my eyes grow hot with tears 
To gaze where they went . . . 

O then I knew my time was through, 

And pleasured in the day. 
At peace to know of Love and Spring 

And Youth gone away. 



73 



DISCOVERY 

Within my mirror I could see 
Last night as I gazed steadfastly 
An old strange thing look out at me ; 

The smile my grandame used to wear; 
Line on proud line it faced me there . 
I had not known it meant Despair. 



74 



WOMAN-LORE 

Now this is what you learn at last 

Of men beneath the sun, 
With all the gates of living passed 

And all the kisses done — 
That none are ever old indeed 

And none are very wise, 
And they will break you for their need 

Or give you earth and skies : 

And out of all between you two 

For all the close years' gain. 
The dearest gifts they give to you 

Shall come with sorest pain — 
(A pain your lips find still untold, 

A joy they cannot see) 
Your child they give your arms to hold, 

Your child they grow to be. 



75 



THE UNFOUND CITY 

(For Alice Brown) 

There is a city burning in a dream 

All women know and search for secretly; 

The swift rose-hearted flame's eternal stream 
Laps round the changeless towers eternally. 

It stands far off above a circling mist. . . . 

Have ye not seen our eyes that seek its light, 
Felt the quick sigh between our lips late-kissed, 

Felt our loosed arms yearn toward it in the night? 

Gold Helen found it not, nor white Deirdre: 
There is no woman, howso loved, can tell 

Of those white changeless dream-towers seen by day, 
Of that flame calyxed, perfect citadel : 

We shall not ever know its perfect joy. 

Yet we shall seek it till our years are gone . . . 

Eternal Love whose fires shall not destroy 
Eternal Beauty that it heats upon. 



THE DARK CAVALIER 

I AM the Dark Cavalier ; I am the Last Lover : 

My arms shall welcome you when other arms are 
tired ; 

I stand to wait for you, patient in the darkness, 
Offering forgetfulness of all that you desired. 

I ask no merriment, no pretense of gladness, 
I can love heavy lids and lips without their rose ; 

Though you are sorrowful you will not weary me ; 
I will not go from you when all the tired world goes. 

I am the Dark Cavalier ; I am the Last Lover ; 

I promise faithfulness no other hps may keep; 
Safe in my bridal place, comforted by darkness, 

You shall lie happily, smiling in your sleep. 



77 



PEOPLE 



TRAVEL PRAYER 

All along the way 

As through the night we go, 
I see the little houses 

In lighted row on row — 

The flying train goes by 

And sounds its whistle clear, 

And all the waiting houses 

They lift their lights and hear: 

A thousand homes for miles on miles, 

I press the pane to see ; 
And each has lights that wait its own 

As my lights wait for me — 

All the little homes 

And every one alight ! 
Lord, keep the people happy 

That wait in them tonight ! 



8l 



HIS MOTHER 

He will be cold tonight — 

Always he felt it so. 
(Strange not to lift the light, 

Strange not to go, 
Softly — for he forgets, 

Careless as glad! — 
Drawing the coverlets 

Over the lad.) 

Blankly the covers lie, 

Smooth and untossed. 
By me the fire burns high, 

Outside is frost . . . 
Has it had rest tonight. 

Dear tumbled head? 
Lord, I would knozv — would know 

If he were dead! 

It must be cold and wet 

Where our troops lie . . . 
(Lord Jesus, spare him yet! 

Let him not die!) 
Still here ... so still . . . and white 

One far clear star . . . 
He will he cold tonight, 

Where the troops are, 
82 



IN AN OFFICE BUILDING 

I WENT down the old passage 

Between the Hghted doors 

To your hghted door, 

Knowing that I should find you there, 

Find your swift smile and quickened words, 

Comfort and welcome there, 

Guardianship and greeting. 

As it has always been. 

As it shall always be. 

And suddenly 

As my hand touched the door, I knew, 

Knowing you quick and warm 

And waiting me 

That I should dream, some far-off night from this 

Of coming down this passageway to you 

Between the lighted doors 

To your lighted door 

Knowing that I should find you there. 

And opening, find 

An empty frightening place 

And you away. 

And wake 

Remembering you were dead. 



83 



GOD'S PLACES 

I SAID, " I am so tired of all the old tired faces 

In the crowded places, 
I tire of all the weary steps that cross and beat 

Down the long swift street : " 
I said, " I will return into my own still room, 

Thick with peace and gloom." 

I said, " I will summon up the still bright streams 

Of my trooping dreams. 
Whose faces are as weariless and calm and young 

As a bird-note sung. 
Who drift along with sunset-colored robes outblowing, 

Of all need unknowing." 

And then . . . the sun shone cloudless, and the wind 
blew fleet 

Down the long swift street 
And through the windowed canyon's end the sky's 
sweet blue 

Shone unwearied through, 
And I said, " But I must stay, for see, my brothers' 
faces 

Here in God's own places ! " 



84 



PEOPLE 
(For Jessie Rittenhouse) 

I AM so sorry for them all 

Whose ceaseless footsteps rise and fall 

Along earth's highways endlessly, 

The people in the world with me ; 

Who have had dreams, and yet must take 

The gifts life has for men awake ; 

Who build their lives each day anew 

On hopes they know cannot come true. 

Who walk the world till sleep, and then 

At dawn must walk tiie world again ; 

Who ask God's favors, knowing still 

He does not break His changeless will 

For any faulty changing cry 

Of men He makes to live or die. . . ., 

I am so sorry for them all, 
So sorry ! Until I recall 
How life's adventure swings afar 
Beyond tomorrow like a star, 
And how our dreams paint golden-bright 
Gray working-day and sleeping-night. 
And all the love each man who lives 
May buy with merely love he gives, 
85 



86 People 

And how it comforts us to pray 
Whether God hears or turns away, 
And how to work and sleep and wake 
Is good for the mere doing's sake : 
Till, whether life seem gay or sad, 
I am so glad for men — so glad ! 



A BOY OF THE GHETTO 

He goes out with his Dreams 
Through the dingy city square, 

Purple- and silver-winged 

They go with him everywhere. 

The quarreling hags at the windows 
Have voices unkind, unsweet, 

But his Dreams have silver voices 
And starrily-slippered feet ; 

The workmen push on the pavement 
And laugh and curse as they go, 

But he is far with his Dreams 
On a road they do not know ; 

He walks far off with the Dreams 
That whisper and sing beside 

And his face is glad and still 
And his eyes are burning-wide ; 

He goes out with his Dreams 
Through a golden wonder-place 

With the light of God in his eyes 
And the peace of God in his face. 



87 



WISTFULNESS 



LIFE TELLS THE DREAMER 

These others ask me little, clamoring 

For such imperfect gifts as I can bring ; 

A crown . . . with thorns along it ... or much 

gold 
To weigh the heart down with its dragging hold . . . 
Or men's loud voices calling on their name, 
A little day, then hurt and scorn — called Fame — 
Or for one fleeting hour a world made new 
Called Love . . . But, Child, these gifts are not for 

you. 

Too clear of sight, you ask things past my hold ; 
A light beyond the sunlight . . . Fairy-golcJ . . . 
Love ageless and unflawed . . . Faith crystal- 
true . . . 
So, Child, I keep my broken gifts from you, 
Leaving instead my only perfect thing. 
The Dream these others lose, all-sorrowing. 
Still raptured, still all-golden ; yours to keep 
Till Death my sister's gift, more perfect Sleep. 



PRESCIENCE 

I WENT to sleep smiling, 

I wakened despairing — 
Where was my soul, 

On what terror-path faring? 
What grief shall befall me. 

By midnight or noon, 
What thing has my soul learned 

That I shall know soon? 



I TELL MY HEART 

/ TELL my heart, to hush her aching 
When we are sleeping, when we're waking. 
Of things we loved well, she and I, 
Upon a time that is gone by: 

Heart, now the Spring comes there shall be 
A bright and blossoming apple-tree 
Against the window-light to swing 
Its thousand-petaled flowering; 
There is clear water, flickering green. 
With shining leaf-brown rocks between 
And silver fish that hide and dart 
Where we may play too, dear my heart ; 
And there is sunlight's gold that lies 
Warmly on cheek and breast and eyes 
And little winds at even-star 
That slip from where the pine-trees are . , 
And heart, remember how we heard 
At twilight once a wakened bird 
Whose notes flung out a silver net 
Against flame-rose, flame-violet! 

Oh, heart, my heart, still can you lie 
Dumb while the wonder-spring goes by ? 

My heart is very young — some while 
Perhaps she may look up and smile. 
93 



FULFILMENT 

Crossing through Heaven's doors, 
If Heaven may be for me, 

I shall not seek gold floors 
Nor jasper wall nor sea; 

Out from the streets of gold 
Will branch a wooded way 

Like one I knew of old 

When all the world was May : 

There shall be dusk to fall 
And winds expectant, sweet, 

And sleepy birds to call 
And vines about my feet. 

Stars in the night's soft black. 
Leaves that swish soft like rain 

And one old hour come back 
And one choice given again. 



94 



ONCE I MET HAPPINESS 

Once when all the Spring was wild. 
All the leaves dew-pearled, 

Once I met Happiness, 
Singing down the world. 

She had laughter on her lips. 

Flowers in her hair — 
Once I met Happiness — 

Oh, she was fair! 

There was yellow sun, I know, 

Scent o' pine that day, 
Once she kissed me on the lips, 

Laughed and went her way. 

What if all the lights are dim. 

All the flowers furled? 
Once I met Happiness, 

Singing down the world ! 



95 



LOVE SONGS 



DENIAL 

It never would have hurt God 
To have made the world today 
So that your footsteps turned my way, 

So that our two paths crossed — 
But I went wearily up and down 
The streets of the empty-painted town 

And a whole day was lost ! 

Never your footsteps where mine trod. 

Never my words to you — 
And it all would have been so simple for God, 
So slight a thing to do 1 



99 



THE MASTERS 

You have taught me laughter, 

Joyousness and light, 
How the day is rosy-wild, 

Star-enthrilled the night : 

Maybe God can teach me 

After you are gone 
How to bear the blackened night 

And the dreadful dawn. 



too 



I SAID, " LOVE IS GONE " 

I SAID, " Love is gone ; 

I need bear no more 
Terrible dawn 

And midnight sore 
Hungering dreams 

I cannot keep 
And fever-streams 

Across my sleep ..." 

And the sun went down, 

And the day burned black 
Over the town 

And Love came back 
And my heart was burned 

With fire and pain — 
But Love had returned, 

Had returned again I 



ZOI 



VAIN HIDING 

I SAID : " I shall find peace now, for my love has never 
been 

Here in the little room, in the quiet place ; 
The walls shall not quiver around me, nor fires begin, 

And I shall forget his voice and perhaps his face 

And be still for a little space.'' 

But the thought of my love beat wild against the 
silencing doors 
There in the quivering air, in the throbbing room, 
Till his step strode quick and light against the echoing 
floors 
And the light of his voice was there for the placid 

gloom 
And his presence a shed perfume. 

So I said : " There is no peace more, for the place can 
never be 
Where the thought of him cannot come, cannot bum 
me thro*, 
For the thought of his touch is my flesh, and his voice 
is a voice in me, 
And what is the use of all you may say or do 
When love is a part of you ? " 



I02 



" MARY, HELPER OF HEARTBREAK " 

Well, if the thing is over, better it is for me, 

The lad was ever a rover, loving and laughing free. 

Far too clever a lover not to be having still 

A lass in the town and a lass by the road and a lass 

by the farther hill — 
Love on the field and love on the path and love in the 

woody glen — 
(Lad, will I never see you, never your face again?) 

Ay, if the thing is ending now I'll be getting rest, 
Saying my prayers and bending down to be stilled and 

blest. 
Never the days are sending hope till my heart is sore 
For a laugh on the path and a voice by the gate and 

a step on the shieling floor — 
Grief on my ways and grief on my work and grief till 

the evening's dim — 
(Lord, will I never hear it, never a sound of him?) 

Sure if it's done forever, better for me that's wise, 
Never the hurt, and never tears in my aching eyes. 
No more the trouble ever to hide from my asking folk 
Beat of my heart at click o' the latch, and throb if his 
name is spoke; 

103 



104 ''Mary, Helper of Heartbreak'' 

Never the need to hide the sighs and the flushing 
thoughts and the fret, 

And after awhile my heart will hush and my hunger- 
ing hands forget . . . 

Peace on my ways, and peace in my step, and maybe 
my heart grown light — 

(Mary, helper of heartbreak, send him to me tonight!) 



INTERIM 

I HAVE a little peace today, 

And I can pause and see 
How life is filled with golden things 

And gracious things for me ; 

I can go watch the water run 

And smile to feel the air 
And love the deep touch of the sun 

And know the world is fair . . . 

Oh, hush, my soul, take comfort now 

And sleepy-singing lie 
Till Love return to hide the sun 

And veil the earth and sky ! 



los 



OTHER PEOPLE 

I LOOK at all the people 
Who meet me and are gay, 

And wonder have they broken hearts 
That hurt night and day ? 

So I am very kind to them 
Whoever they may be, 

Because they may have broken hearts- 
Broken hearts, like me. 



io6 



AND IF YOU CAME— 

And if you came ? — Oh, I would smile 

And sit quite still to hide 
My throat that something clutched the while. 

My heart that struck my side. 

And you would hear my slow words fall, 

(Men do not know!) and say 
" She does not love me now at all," 

And rise and go away. 

And I would watch, as quietly 

Your footsteps crossed the sill, 
The whole world dying out from me . . . 

And speak on, smiling, still. 



107 



I WAS STILL A CHILD 

I WAS Still a child 

Till I came to you, 
Child-eyes, child-heart, 

Child-lips all too true ; 

I went silently, 

With all-wondering eyes . 
" She is old,'* they said, 

" She is grave and wise." 

Came your touch that burned 
Eyes and lips and heart ; 

There were no more dreams 
I could spin, apart: 

Now my lips are gay 
And my heart untold ; 

" She is young," they say . . 
I am old — am old ! 



io8 



PEACE 

All my days are clear again and gentle with for- 
getting, 
Mornings cool with graciousness of time passed 
stilly by. 
Evening sweet with call of birds and lilac-rose sun- 
setting, 
And starshine does not hurt my heart nor night- 
winds make me cry. 

I can tie a ribbon now, nor hope of your eyes' pleasure 

Makes its hue intolerable if you come not to see, 
I can hear old music now, nor stabbing through its 
measure 
Come the thoughts I would not have, or tears that 
need not be. 

All my days are placid now, as quiet children slowly 
Pacing down a leaf-locked way that has not dale or 
hill; 
Peace again and mirth again, and dawn and even 
holy. . . . 
/ wish I had your hands in mine, and heartbreak 
still! 



109 



ONE WORSE THING 

Last Spring I walked these ways, and a sharp grief 
walked with me. 

For you had broken my heart with a light kiss, care- 
lessly, 

And I was young and was new to grief, and could 
think of no worse thing 

Than to walk abroad with a hurting heart and be hope- 
less in the Spring. 

But I am older now, and have lived with grief awhile. 
And there's one worse thing than a hurting heart that 

you have to hide and smile, 
For I who know what a hurt heart is, and the thing 

that grief can be, 
I — I have broken a heart with a light kiss, carelessly ! 



GIVERS 

My lover kissed my lips, and his arms went round my 

body, 
But you were kissing the lips of my soul in our own 

wild garden 
Where the rose-colored moon shone down 
Through a sevenfold garland of rainbow stars 
And a river of clear golden music rippled and thrilled 
In our own place. 

My lover gave me worship and faith and swift sub- 
mission, 

You gave me a light word, and a touch, before you 
went from me, 

And an endless demesne where my dreams can live 
my whole life through 

And a living heart to sing with ; 

There is never cause for grief or cause for laughter 

That I do not run to our country of dreams to tell you. 

Wrapped in your living arms among the heavenly 
roses, 

Sur6 of your smile . . . 

You, whose heart is a cluster of seven cold stars ! 



Ill 



OLD WINE 

If I could lift 

My heart but high enough 
My heart could fill with love : 

But ah, my heart 

Too still and heavy stays 
Too brimming with old days. 



iia 



I TOOK HIS DREAMS 

I TOOK his dreams from him, 
Boy-dreams of gold and red, 

I gave him sorrows dim, 
White grief, instead, . . . 

And for a Httle space 

Joy in my careless face. 

I took his hope away, 

Light hope, a foolish thing, 

I gave him silence gray. 
Death's comforting . . . 

Was it my soul that sighed. 

Dead on the day he died? 



1X3 



CERTAINTIES 

Whether you live by hut or throne 
Whether your feet tread stone or grass 

Comes the one lad you shall never own 
Or the one lass ; 

Whether you've pence to spend or gold, 
Whether you've toil or time to weep, 

Comes the one pain that may never be told 
And may never sleep; 

Whether you weep or mock in pride, 

Whether you tell or still deny, 
Comes the one scar that your heart shall hide 

Till the day you die ! 



114 



WISE PEOPLE 

I THINK that we are very strong and wise, 
Mocking at love and at the grief thereafter, . 

For sometimes I forget him in your eyes 
And sometimes you forget her in my laughter. 



115 



UNFAITH 

You hid the love in your eyes — 
How could you think I knew ? 

It was only a step to his comforting 
From the hurt of you. 

For even a woman's eyes 

Grow tired of tears — 
It was so long a way to look 

Down the naked years! 

And I had rest from heartbreak 
And I had peace from pain. . . . 

Why do you have the love in your eyes 
Again, again ? 



ii6 



SONG: KIND ADIEU 

GooD-BY, my dear, good-by — 
You woke my heart to break it, 
So if anotlier take it 

Why need you turn or sigh ? 

New roads are soon to find 

And Heaven may well be sending 
At every highway's ending 

A lass that will be kind : 

Good luck, my lad — good day! 

Go singing down the year — 

But as for me, my dear, 
I go another way ! 



117 



I 



LOST COUNSEL 

If you were but near me, 

O kindest and best, 
I could tell you my trouble, 

And I could have rest; 

You would smile and be silent, 
And then you would say 

Some word that would still me 
And brighten the day — 

Wisest and kindest, 

If you were but near 
I could speak of my lover, 

My doubt and my fear. 

You would show me my pathway- 

But what shall I do, 
Wisest and kindest? 

My lover is you ! 



xi8 



I DID NOT KNOW 

I DID not know that I should miss you, 
So silver-soft your loving came, 

There were no trumpets down the dawning, 
There were no leaping tides of flame . . 

Only a peace like still rain falling 

On a tired land with drought foredone. 

Only a warmth like light soft-lying 
On a shut place that has not sun. 

I did not know that I should miss you . . 

I only miss you, day and night, 
Stilly, as earth would miss the rainfall, 

Always, as earth would miss the light. 



119 



AN AFTERNOON 

This was one of the dreary whiles 
When a woman sits and smiles 
Wishing all the talk was over, 
Inward thought a weary rover . . . 
But my lips smiled vividly — 
Ah, the women could not see 
How my hand in yours lay warm 
Through wide miles of sun and storm 
(Far away, dear, did you know 
That I smiled to feel it so?) 

And my eyes burned bright, elate, 
Into theirs of drearier fate, 
Seeing your eyes' lovingness 
Into mine smile deep and bless 
(Far away, love, did you see 
On your eyes mine lovingly?) 

While between the words they made. 
Weary words, I think, dull-weighed, 
We were talking each to each — 
Why, too short for all our speech 
Was the lingering afternoon. 
Throbbing fast and vanished soon 

120 



i 



I 



An Afternoon 121 

(Far away, love, did you hear 
All I whispered in your ear?) 

And they said — I heard them say — 
" What it is to be young and gay ! 
How she pleasured in the day ! " 



THE WOOD-PATH 

The little wood-path wandered 
Green and brown and gay 

Up a hill and down a hill, 
Through a dew-wet way. 

It slipped beneath the pine-trees 
Where the winds blew sweet, 

Past goldenrod and feverfew 
And fields of whispering wheat 

So far and wide it wandered, 
So many a dusk-sweet way, 

I thought the little wood-path 
Was guiding me astray — 

But oh, the little wood-path 

It knew, it was wise. 
It led me to your waiting arms, 

To your lips, your eyes ! 



122 



WARNING 

As long as you never marry me, and I never marry 
you, 

There's nothing on earth that we cannot say and noth- 
ing we cannot do — 

The flames lift up from our blowing hair, the leaves 
flash under our feet 

When once in a year or a score of years our hands 
and our laughters meet ! 

For east and west through a sorry world we pass with 

our joy to sell, 
And they that buy of our song and jest they praise us 

that we do well, 
But few can sell us the mirth they buy, and few be 

that know a song, 
And for all of the praise of the kindly folk, their 

speeches are over-long! 

But two of a trade, one always hears, might get in 

each other's way. 
And you might be wanting to sing, God wot, when I 

desired to play, 
(Oh, it's rather a danger with folks like us and our 

sparks that are flying free) 
But I never, never must marry you, and you never 

must marry me ! 

123 



124 Warning 

Now when we take breath from songs at last, to be 

what the rest call dead, 
They'll sigh, ** Ah, noble the songs they made, and 

noble the jests they said ! " 
And they will inscribe on our monuments regret that 

our day is done — 
But we will be off in an excellent place, and havisg 

most excellent fun — 

Oh, very proud from a golden cloud you'll stride in 

your crown and wings. 
Till you hear my little earthly giggle behind my gold 

harpstrings ; 
And you'll toss your gilt theorbo down on the nearest 

star or moon. 
And carry me off on a comet's back for a long, wild 

afternoon ; 

And while we're lashing the comet up till it misses St. 

Michael's Way, 
And laugh to think how the seraphs blink, and what 

the good saints will say, 
We'll heave a little sigh of content — or a wistful one, 

maybe — 
To know that I never can marry you, and you never 

can marry me ! 



If 18 




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BOOKBINDING 

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Nov Dec 1988 



